


Algal Bloom

by RavioliHailstorm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Florida, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, M/M, Moving On, Ocean, Plants, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29550267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavioliHailstorm/pseuds/RavioliHailstorm
Summary: As Valentine's Day approaches, George and Dream struggle to resolve internal conflicts after their sudden, devastating breakup on New Year's.This story is a spin-off dedicated to @toastede . She wrote a DreamNotFound AU titled "Tide's Out", and this is my (non-canonical) interpretation of what happens next. Even though "Tide's Out" is currently undergoing rewriting, I highly recommend you check out her work! This story contains major spoilers for "Tide's Out".Even though the Dream Team has stated that they are comfortable with fanfiction, I am happy to take this down if they wish. I do not mind if the Dream Team finds this.Published from February 2nd, 2021, and onwards.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Algal Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toastede](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastede/gifts).



> **Content warning: mentions of alcohol, harsh language**

~ Dream ~

I was suffocating.

The month of February released Florida from its usually hot climate, but humidity still clumped in my throat as I crossed the grocery store parking lot beneath overcast skies. Hopping onto the concrete curb, I struggled to ignore the pounding in my head. I did not sleep well last night. I rarely slept well.

Lingering effects of alcohol punished my body with a nightmarish hangover. I had not showered yet today; my hair was untidy, sweat stained my shirt, and I smelled like I had just rolled out of a dumpster. A single piece of jewelry was the only flashy aspect of my appearance; metallic chains of a necklace from a very special someone dangled from my neck.

Fighting the urge to turn around and return to my car, I dumped my keys and smartphone into my pockets, and grabbed a shopping cart from the stall beside the grocery store entrance. Pulling the cart behind me, I looked both ways upon entering the grocery store. At 8:12am, the grocery store's aisles and perimeter were mostly empty.

I neglected to draft a shopping list, for I usually bought the same items every week. Glancing down each long, stretching aisle, I headed absently toward the bread section. As I passed a middle aisle, I slowed upon noticing it was not empty; halfway down stood a customer beside his own shopping cart, comparing boxes of cereal. Initially, my gaze drifted lazily over the young man until I recognized his feathery brown hair, narrow shoulders, and oversized hoodie. Panic struck me.

George.

Well, shit. Scurrying out of view, I jerked my cart after me, continuing along the store's perimeter. Luckily I could reach the bread, dairy, and deli sections without traveling down that aisle. He did not need to know I was here with him.

Quietly distancing myself from the aisle George occupied, I hoped he would not recognize me, yet by not immediately leaving the store, I set myself up to take the risk. I dreaded his attention, but the urge for our eyes to meet nearly overwhelmed me.

As my tension eased, I passed a display of Valentine's Day merchandise. The romantic holiday was in a few days. Caroline and I lost contact; despite the relief from my ex-girlfriend's emotional torment, her absence left me without a partner to consider a Valentine.

Against my better judgment, I scanned the array of Valentine's Day merchandise: bunches of flowers, boxes of chocolate, paper cards, and stuffed animals wearing red ribbons. In the past, I might have insisted I would never succumb to buying such gaudy products. Now, I hesitated. Reluctant, yet oddly determined, I snagged the most unnecessary of them all.

The harsh, manipulative Caroline might deserve loneliness on Valentine's Day, but the stubbornly loyal George certainly did not.

When I visited the grocery store's freezer section, I chose a variety of frozen comfort meals, then piled the boxes upon the Valentine's Day merchandise in my cart.

An appalling plan formed in my head, one which would inevitably lead to disaster. The plan was selfless on the surface, and selfish within. If George saw me before I executed my plan, he would feel deeply conflicted, and he deserved nothing but happiness. He would deserve the world, if the world did not include me in it.

~ George ~

I could breathe again. Thankfully, no nightmares interrupted last night's slumber.

Sapnap's New Year's gift for me was a set of athletic clothing for jogging through the quiet Orlando mornings. My New Year's gift for him was the promise I would let him sleep in while I handled the grocery shopping for the months of January to March. We accepted each other's gifts with utmost gratitude.

This morning, after a jog and shower, I slunk quietly out of the apartment as my roommate continued his peaceful rest. I did not wear the athletic outfit Sapnap gifted me. Instead, against my better judgment, I wore Dream's soft, comfortable hoodie.

Dream had been gone from my life for less than two months, but that short time felt like a year of dissociating, staring out windows at overcast skies, and watching relentless tides crash against the sandy beach.

Subconsciously adjusting the hoodie's collar, I hesitated over several different boxes of cereal until movement flickered in my peripheral vision. Casually I glanced over one shoulder to see the fleeting figure of another customer, a young man, passing my aisle at a lurching gait.

It was only a guy, I reassured myself. Probably an awesomely handsome guy. Rolling my eyes at myself, I hastily selected a box of cereal and placed it into my shopping cart.

Lifting the notepad paper which relayed the products I needed to purchase, my eyes scanned the organized list based on the products' locations in the store. Cheese, yogurt, milk, and cream were next.

Pushing my shopping cart forward, I headed toward the dairy and deli sections of the store, located along the back wall. Lost in my own thoughts, I absently selected a container of rolled oats and a box of tea off the shelves on my way. Looking both directions, I emerged from the aisle, then halted with a sharp inhale.

Across the three meters of distance between the end of the aisle and the deli area, stood a tall, broad-shouldered figure. The man's slightly slouched posture and crooked neck betrayed he must be exhausted. My lips parted slightly as I observed him closer, noticing the familiarity of his short, dirty-blonde hair, slightly muscled build, freckled pale skin, and worn athletic shoes. My heart skipped.

Dream.

Oh no. He faced away from me, busily comparing tubs of fruity yogurt.

Adrenaline coursed through me and fingers twitched as I considered my immediate options: continue shopping and buy deli products later, or step forward to buy deli products and ignore him. Neither option guaranteed an escape without detection. I clamped my mouth shut. If I spoke, I would call his name, tell him I missed him, tell him how much I loved him, or ask him why he had left as if I did not know already.

Although what Dream chose to buy at the grocery store was not my business, I could not resist peering into his shopping cart. In addition to a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, I recognized boxed frozen meals, packs of ramen noodles, canned chili, dry pasta, energy drinks, and a bag of shredded cheese. Subconsciously I glanced into my own cart of fresh vegetables, eggs, flour, sugar, block cheese, bottled water, and rice. Comparing the products Dream and I selected, I sensed vast differences between our current dietary lifestyles.

My observance did not go unnoticed as I stood frozen. Dream sensed eyes upon him, and turned around. Our gazes locked. Hairs rose along my neck and forearms as tension crackled in the air between us. Pensively we considered each other's presence.

Finally, my mind crawled back into the present. Just act natural, I told myself. Setting my eyes on my favorite yogurt brand, I left my shopping cart beside the aisle's entrance and strode forward. Swallowing, I approached the deli shelves directly beside Dream and selected a tub of yogurt.

Silence deafened my ears as I glanced impulsively to my side, absorbing the sight of him. Dark purple marks beneath Dream's eyes gave him a hollow appearance, as if he were only a husk of a man. My former lover's fragility sent a wave of sympathy through me, though I wished to suppress it.

My heartbeat sped up as Dream's eyes drifted to my hoodie; his teal gaze softened as he recognized the fabric as his own. Meanwhile, my own eyes dropped to the glittering ocean wave pendant around his neck dangling from the necklace I gifted him. Awkwardly, I adjusted the lower hem of Dream's hoodie, straightening the fabric around my collar. Simultaneously, Dream's hand lifted to fiddle with his necklace's pendant. Even apart, both of us wore each other's gifts, acknowledging we still longed for each other's presence.

Not in this lifetime, I reminded myself painfully. Dream's vision seemed to clear, too, though his teal eyes were still unfocused with exhaustion. Both our faces were flushed; my cheeks ached while his freckled face darkened. As one of my hands reached for the yogurt tub, Dream lifted a couple of his white-knuckled fingers from where they clung tightly to the cart handle, flicking the fingers in a subtle "hello" gesture. With my free hand, I sent a tiny acknowledging wave in return, then looked away again. My fingers tingled, lips trembled, and skin sizzled where Dream's gaze bore into me with a startling intensity. My heart raced from the lack of distance between us. He was so close. He was right there.

Snagging the tub of my favorite yogurt off the shelf, my heart yearned to stay while my brain screamed to escape. My body followed my brain's orders; without meeting Dream's gaze again, I hurried back to my shopping cart, breathing hard as I deposited the product. Dream took the opportunity as well; I heard a patter of footsteps and the rattling of shopping cart wheels as, like me, he fled the scene. A glance over my shoulder revealed he was gone, and another tub of yogurt was missing from the shelf: Dream had followed my unintentional brand recommendation and chosen the same yogurt tub as me.

Calm down, I assured myself fruitlessly. Without caring if other customers or employees saw, I hung my head. Overwhelmed with excitement, longing, betrayal, and devastation, I buried my face in my hoodie sleeves. The hoodie smelled like me now, but occasionally I convinced myself the fabric still carried a hint of Dream himself.

I saw him, and stood beside him, I realized, stuck in a fray of disbelief. I prided myself on maintaining my composure. I could have burst into tears at the sight of him... but I didn't. I remained strong and steady in the face of emotional destruction. How was Dream feeling? Did his mind whirl in a similar storm? On the other end of the store, did his heart tear in half as well, divided between following his heart to me and following his brain away?

I wanted to rush through the store, find Dream, embrace him tightly, sob into his collarbone, soak his sweat-stained shirt with tears, and cry with my chest heaving against his. All were selfish desires. Reuniting with Dream would provide a short-lived release from heartbreak, but his departure gave me the best chance to move on and live happily. I respected his altruism.

Throughout the rest of my shopping trip, my heart continued pounding. Despite the longing in my heart to experience another stomach-churning exchange, my willpower succeeded, and I did not sight Dream again.

With a full shopping cart, I approached the checkout area. Evidently the other customers in the grocery store were still shopping, for I approached the cashier alone. Efficiently I loaded my chosen products onto the belt.

"Good morning," the cashier greeted, smiling politely. "How've you been today?"

I could write a ten-page essay about the past thirty minutes alone. Aloud, I replied, "Fine. You?"

"It's been a slow morning," the cashier shrugged casually. Together, we descended into a mutual silence as the cashier scanned my products while I replaced them into the shopping cart. After paying the total balance with my credit card, I returned my wallet to my pocket and moved to depart before the cashier blurted, "Wait, before you leave..." The cashier leaned down to pull something from a hidden compartment below their register. Straightening, they presented a massive, heart-shaped box of fancy chocolates from the Valentine's Day display. A fat ribbon formed a bow in the center of the presumably red box.

Frowning with confusion, I refused politely, "No, sorry, I'm not interested in buying that."

"Oh, you wouldn't be buying it," the cashier reasoned. Placing the box on the narrow strip of counter between us, they explained, "Some guy bought this box a few minutes ago. He left it behind on purpose, and asked me to give it to you."

"What? Why?" My stomach twisted as I realized who bought the box.

"I don't know why, but he insisted," the cashier shrugged. "I figured you must be his boyfriend or secret crush or something. I doubt he would've spent sixty dollars for it if the recipient weren't special to him."

"How do you know it's not for someone else?" I raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"The guy gave a pretty specific description," the cashier reasoned. One eyebrow arched with amusement at my pallid expression. Replicating Dream's charismatic voice, they recited, "His words were, 'There's an insanely attractive, five-foot-eight-inch man with short hair and beautiful brown eyes, wearing a hoodie and a glowing smile. You can't miss him.'" When I blinked in shock at the detailed description, the cashier concluded light-heartedly, "Does that help narrow it down?"

"I... yes, it does, thank you," I stammered.

Although the tag on the heart-shaped box only displayed the barcode, not the price, I remembered seeing the display of Valentine's Day gifts upon my arrival. This heart-shaped box was the largest, finest, and most expensive holiday merchandise off the shelf, costing sixty dollars. How am I supposed to eat all of this? Then, I realized the stupidity of my question, for these chocolates would surely last months in the refrigerator. My mind grasped at straws, searching for a logical reason to decline the gift which did not involve addressing my persistent hopeful feelings.

Ultimately, I extended both hands to accept the extraordinary box, murmuring, "Thank you. I love it."

"No problem," the cashier responded politely, eyes sparkling as blush spread across my cheeks. "Have a good day!"

"You, too," I muttered, placing the Valentine's Day box in my shopping cart's basket. As I pushed the cart from the store, one thumb brushing lightly over the ribbon sealing the heart-shaped box, my gaze scanned the parking lot.

Outside the sun had risen, its warm rays gently penetrating the overcast morning skies as a steady stream of vehicles entered the grocery store parking lot. Unlocking my own car, I transferred products from my shopping cart into the trunk. Clutching the Valentine's Day merchandise in one hand, I replaced the cart into a nearby holder with the other. At the car, I placed the heart-shaped box on top of the groceries in my trunk, then hesitated. If I left it there, the box would surely slide off. Although the ribbon and tight seal would prevent its rupture, leaving it back here would symbolize carelessness... and I cared immensely about this astonishing gift.

Plucking the box from the trunk, I closed the car's back door, then gently placed it in the passenger seat beside me. Adjusting myself in the driver's seat, my gaze fixed upon the heart-shaped box's shiny surface beneath the gaudy ribbon and bow. Catching the sunlight streaming through my car's windshield, fingerprints shone in the rays. I recognized the prints of my slender fingers upon the box's lower half. Along both sides were thumbprints, small and dainty, from the cashier. My breath hitched when I noticed a third set of fingerprints, large and squared, marking the box's top. Those faint fingerprints were Dream's.

Heaving a wavering sigh, I dragged my eyes from the Valentine's Day chocolates, started the car engine, gripped the steering wheel, and exited the parking lot. Along my journey home, I subconsciously hummed love songs beneath my breath, all of them voicing the agony of star-crossed love.

Maybe in a different lifetime.

As my car pulled into the parking lot of Sapnap's and my apartment complex, I swallowed hard as my throat choked. Tears pricked in my eyes, but I only allowed them to fall once my car safely halted in my designated parking spot. Staring at the massive heart-shaped box occupying the passenger seat, I rubbed watery eyes with my wrist. Where was that different lifetime? When was that different lifetime? Who waited for me in that different lifetime? I did not want to keep anyone waiting. If I could go anywhere in the world, the place I would go to would not be a where, but a who.

Gathering myself, I carried full bags of groceries from the car trunk toward the apartment. Unlocking and propping open the front door with my shoulder, I transferred the bags inside. Only two trips were necessary to move all our groceries from the car to the apartment; I dedicated the third trip entirely to moving the most precious cargo. Careful to avoid disturbing my roommate snoring peacefully in the bedroom, I set the heart-shaped box on the kitchen counter, then dutifully washed my hands in the kitchen sink.

From the bedroom, I heard a mattress creak as Sapnap stirred, flipping over in his sleep. He would wake soon, and the box's presence was unexplainable. I could lie about its origins and say I bought it on an impulse, but Sapnap would not believe such a ridiculous tale. Everything would be easier if I simply disposed of the gift.

After unloading groceries into the cabinets, refrigerator, and freezer, I swiped the heart-shaped box off the counter. Pocketing my apartment keys, I gingerly closed the front door behind me as I headed toward the complex's communal dumpster. This is for the best, I assured myself. It was nothing too valuable, merely fancy chocolates, yet even when I reached the dumpster, extending my arm to toss the Valentine's Day box inside, I hesitated.

The tag was still attached; if I did not dispose of the product, I could return it to the grocery store for money. Giving up the box would gain me closure, financial gain, and satisfaction. Nevertheless, as I stood before the dumpster, preparing to toss away the gift before even opening it, my fingers clutched the box tighter when I urged them to throw the wretched thing away.

I could not do it.

Slowly, I retracted my arm, staring apprehensively at the beautiful box. Dream paid for it with more than money alone. Hugging the box to my chest, I supported its bottom with one splayed palm and ruffled the fat ribbon with my other hand's fingers. Groaning with frustration, I pressed my forehead against the cool, sleek cardboard. Why, Dream, would you force me to undergo this misery by giving me a gift I cannot refuse?

Whipping around, I sprinted back to the apartment with the heart-shaped box tucking safely into my grasp. Quietly re-entering the cozy space, I placed the gift on the counter once more. Fingers trembling, I untied the shiny ribbon. This was wrong. This was falling prey to desperate urges I swore I would resist.

Lifting the lid, I broke the airtight seal, then removed the shiny pieces of paper and foil. A massive variety of chocolates greeted me. Delectable scent wafted into my nostrils. On the lid's back lay a guide for identifying the truffles, nougats, white chocolate, nut brittle, and wafers within the assortment.

Covering my watering mouth with one hand, I suppressed a heartfelt sob. I imagined Dream standing before the Valentine's Day display, searching through the merchandise. He would have believed I deserved the best of the selection, no matter the price. Why does he have to care so much about me? A strange mixture of irritation and love brewed in my heart as I referred to the guide, then chose a single raspberry truffle. Carefully handling the gold foil wrapper, I placed the chocolate upon a paper napkin.

At lunchtime, I used the spinach, mustard, deli meat, wheat bread, and cheese I bought from the grocery store to prepare my daily sandwich. Once my ceramic plate was devoid of crumbs and lettuce shreds, I leaned forward upon the barstool and slid the napkin closer. Grasping the raspberry truffle between my thumb and index finger, I popped the sweet treat into my mouth. Rich, smooth chocolate and tangy fruit jelly pleasured my tongue.

Although the hopelessly romantic part of my mind could not bear to throw away my former lover's precious gift, the crushingly realistic part of my mind reminded me I could not keep it. Opening the refrigerator, I rearranged its contents, then placed the heart-shaped box on the newly empty top shelf.

I had a plan.


End file.
